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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Boer War In our Chestdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: colbybradshaw
    ASL Info:    24,deep south, u.s
    Elite Ratio:    3.61 - 19/19/29
    Words: 299
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 415
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2331



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Boer War In our Chestdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Forthright,
    and dusky,
    the concrete echoed with the lie,
    that the rubber,
    made it tell,
    safety nets and smiles,
    book stores,
    economic gain,
    lines,
    ringing drawers,
    orgy of waste,
    i love it all,
    with my hate,
    but my heart only lives in one place,
    far away,
    from all of this,
    this desolation,
    this encumbrance,
    this orangutanesque adventurescape,
    the fear is palpable,
    the hands reaching into pockets,
    the salesmanship,
    the tic nervosa,
    the cell phone,
    gaped at,
    glared at,
    an escape from the eyes of others,
    the electronic ocular cavity we place,
    our,
    trust,
    in,
    e. pluribus ,
    unhhhh,
    ummm,
    even our mottoes sound like excuses when said at a different less remembered pace,
    requiem,
    in nomine patri et fili spiritus sancti,
    gosh,
    adjudicate,
    save yourself,
    from this grace,
    stare into the blue acidic sky,
    and stop this travesty,
    this appeal,
    grinding bones,
    called teeth,
    you hear in your sleep,
    but are they yours,
    the sleeping you is never sure,
    but then we were together,
    on the floor,
    white blanket,
    like some seraphimic cloud beneath our reddened summer skins,
    eyes closed,
    intermittent movements,
    the glaring sun,
    the sound of nefarious gardeners,
    mimicking the sound of footsteps up my stairwell,
    i held you close to me,
    you whispered a song from the deep narcosis of hypnoeadia ,
    like the breath of angels,
    angels whom so often ive ridiculed,
    what a fool ive been,
    nevertheless,
    my surprise is a lie,
    i knew this perception was wrong,
    objectivity,
    only applies to objects,
    i su pp ose.

    Still my desire to infect,
    the minds,
    of the plebeian counterpart,
    the archaic ID of man,
    the weltanschuung,
    the mispelled germanic,
    that in no way affects anything but semantics,
    the obsession,
    with inane,
    posturing,
    and redundant conversational pieces.





    Submitted on 2010-04-08 18:33:06     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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